


Might Need Glasses

by thenerdyindividual



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Fluff, Glasses, Kingsman is just a tailor shop, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22236280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdyindividual/pseuds/thenerdyindividual
Summary: Eggsy gets a job at Kingsman tailors, but can't get passed the point in his training where he needs to thread a needle. Harry suggest he might need glasses. Jamal has a particularly strong reaction.
Relationships: Jamal/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	Might Need Glasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anarchycox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/gifts).



> This was just an excuse to write about Eggsy in the round glasses Taron favors, and write for my new OTP.

“Congratulations, Mr. Unwin. You’re hired. Welcome to Kingsman.” Harry says, and holds his hand out for Eggsy to shake.  
“What? Seriously? But I don’t know how to sew.” Eggsy feels compelled to point out. 

Jamal has convinced him to apply to this apprenticeship after a night of too much canned wine. Eggsy never expected a call back, let alone getting the job. In short, he never thought he’d make it this far. 

“Believe it or not, I view that as an advantage,” Harry says reassuringly, “While many tailors prefer some experience, I prefer the lack of bad habits that develop. I can train you the Kingsman way.”  
Eggsy stares at him open-mouthed for a few moments, and then takes Harry’s hand, “Thank you for the opportunity Mr. Hart.”  
“Please call me Harry, Mr. Hart makes me sound like a school teacher.”  
“Ain’t that what you are? I mean you’re teaching me to sew.”

Harry shoots him an annoyed look through his glasses. 

“Fine. But then you have to call me Eggsy.”  
“I think I can live with that.”

*

“We start by taking measurements,” Harry instructs with his yellow tape measure draped around his neck, “for gentleman you measure the neck, chest, arm length, wrists, and waist for shirts. Like so.”

He runs through the measurements, using Eggsy as a mannequin to demonstrate the proper technique. He is quick, and efficient. He shows Eggsy the proper way to jot down clients’ measurements. 

“For trousers you take waist, and in-seam length…”

The lessons start to blur together, and so far Eggsy isn’t sure he has managed to actually accomplish anything. Turns out drafting patterns is a bitch, even harder than it looks on Project Runway.

It is a month before Harry even lets him near a sewing machine, and even so it isn’t one of the fancy industrial ones that are kept downstairs. It’s a basic Janome, only capable of 18 different stitches if button-holes (which Harry says he won’t be learning for another few weeks) even count as a stitch. Harry has machines capable of nearly 50 different stitches.

Eggsy sits down at the table, and scoots his chair in at Harry’s direction.

“Before we begin sewing any garments you need to able to thread the machine, and ew a straight line. First, slide the spool of thread onto the speed pin...”

Harry demonstrates how to loop the thread through the gears of the sewing machine, and then feed it through the needle at the end. It is done with a practised ease honed by thirty years of work.

Eggsy’s attempt goes… not as smooth.

Turns out threading a needle is a bigger bitch than drafting patterns. The hole is so tiny, it is nearly impossible to see. After the third attempt at re-threading the top of the machine he has a headache from squinting. Harry calls it after attempt four.

“Threading the needle is difficult. Don’t worry about struggling these first few times, and frankly it is fucking boring to watch so I am going to move on to stitching now that I know you won’t fuck up my machines.”

*

Eggsy kicks the door closed behind him, and collapses on to the sofa with a loud groan. Jamal emerges from their kitchen, and passes him a beer. 

“That great of a day then?” he jokes

“Needles can bite my ass.” Eggsy responds, still muffled by the sofa cushions.

“Thought you only liked it when I was the one biting.”

“Oi. Just because we share a bed now don’t mean you go around joking about my sexual tastes.” Eggsy complains, propping himself up on one elbow to glare at Jamal.

Jamal just grins in response, “Why can needles bite your ass?”

“Because the hole is ridiculously tiny. Can barely see it for shit. Then you gotta pass the thread through, but it can’t be twisted, orfed the wrong way or the machine snags, and if the fibers get fuzzy you can’t get it through, and you gotta snip the end, and try again. Remind me why I even applied to this job in the first place?”

“You found the listing online right after you found the inspirational post about ‘apply to everything you won’t get rejected as much as you think’, and we were drunk enough to say ‘fuck it’, and hit submit.”

“Shut it with your logic.”

Jamal snorts, and Eggsy flips him the bird.

*

“You still can’t thread the needle.” Harry states flatly, but Eggsy can tell he’s hiding exasperation. He can feel his job opportunity slipping away. He needs this job. He’s still paying off the lawyer that got Dean away from his mum, and Daisy, and with Jamal’s hours at work being cut, rent is getting steep.

“Sorry Harry. It’s the damn hole. Don’t know how you can do it so smoothly every time.”

“Practice,” Harry says, and his brow wrinkles slightly, “At this rate you should be able to pass through after just a few attempts.”

“I know. I’ll work on it, I swear. But look! My stitches are on the straight yeah? Not bad for someone who ain’t handled a machine before being hired.”

“Eggsy… have you ever had your eyes checked?” Harry asks thoughtfully.

“My eyes?”

“Yes. Have you ever been to an optometrist?”

“No. why?”

“Alright thread scissors down, come with me.”

“Wha--”

“Thread scissors down… That’s it. Come on.”

*

“I need glasses.” Eggsy says first thing when Jamal walks through the door.

“Glasses?”

“Yeah. Turns out things close to your face ain’t supposed to be blurry.”

Jamal takes the bowl of Spaghetti Eggsy offers him, and sits down at the card table that serves as their dining table until they can find one for cheap at an estate sale.

“Nothing is supposed to be blurry you nutter,” Jamal says as he twirls the pasta around his fork, “Hang on! You drove us backwards through traffic like last month!”

“It was more like six months ago, and I can see things far away.”

“You could have fucking killed us.”

“But I didn’t. Can we focus here please?”

Jamal takes a bite of spaghetti, swallows, and says “So you need glasses.”

“Harry took me to the optometrist today.”

Jamal winces a bit, “We have enough saved up to afford some good frames but we might need to go light on the fresh veg for a while.”

“Harry is writing it off as a business deduction. Guess he’s counting it as a uniform component.”

“And you let him do that?”

“Believe it or not Harry is more stubborn than me. Glasses should be coming next week.”

“Alright but if they make your face look funny, I’m divorcing you.” Jamal says, and shoves the last bite of spaghetti into his mouth.

“We’re not married.”

“I’ve got plans.” Jamal says, and drops a kiss on Eggsy’s cheek as he desposits his plate into the sink.

“What plans?” Eggsy asks, but Jamal ignores him, and heads to the sofa to play fifa.

“Jamal! What plans?!”

*

“Okay. How much of a wanker do I look?” Eggsy asks.

He, and Harry are standing in one of the dressing rooms of Kingsman. The glasses had arrived moments before, and Harry had insisted on using their lunch break for a fashion show.

“Not at all in fact.”

“But they look like something Harry Potter would wear.”

“Agreed. However, you are twenty-six, not twelve, and your head is abnormally square.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

Harry just rolls his eyes, “What I mean is that the roundness of the glasses doesn’t look costumish because you have a firm jawline, and distinct cheekbones. The angular pairs nicely with the round. Law of contrasts.”

“Law of contrasts?”

“A lesson for next week. I want to move you on to sewing basic garments now that you can actually see what you’re doing.”

*

“Jamal! You home?”

“That depends! You wearing the glasses?” Jamal calls from the vicinity of the bedroom.

“Just get out here you wanker!”

Jamal emerges from the bedroom, pulling a clean t-shirt over his head. He tugs it down so the hem meets the waistband of his trackies, and finally stops to looks at Eggsy.

“Right.” he says, and then walks away.

“Right what? Do you like them or not?”

“If you think we ain’t fucking with those things on, you got another thing coming.”

“What?”

“Just get in here, and leave on the glasses!” Jamal shouts, muffled by what is presumably his t-shirt coming back over his head.

Eggsy doesn’t need to be told twice.

Later, when they’re in bed, sweaty limbs tangled together Eggsy asks, “So you like them then?”

“Wanker.” Jamal grumbles, and slaps Eggsy’s chest.


End file.
